


In Shades of Greyhound

by orphan_account



Series: SPN Writing Challenge [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Mentioned Sam Winchester/Sarah Blake, Panic Attack, Past Character Death, Past Child Neglect, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 04:49:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5277311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sam had been bitching at him nearly every day for the past month to come see him and meet his girlfriend, and Dean had finally run out of viable excuses. "</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Shades of Greyhound

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [SPN Writing Challenge](http://spnwritingchallenge.tumblr.com) November 2015 "travel"-themed prompt "bus." 
> 
> This turned out much more depressing than I'd originally intended. It was supposed to be a silly, funny thing, and— Well. To say that didn't happen is a bit of an understatement. 
> 
> Anyway. 
> 
> **Warning:** the "past character death" and "past child neglect" are only mentioned in passing, and the panic attack is brief. If any of that bothers you, I'd probably sit this one out.

The sky was beginning to pink with the setting sun when Dean climbed into the bus, handing over his ticket before searching out a seat. There were plenty open, not many people travelling in his direction. Dean hitched his bag more securely on his shoulder and made his way to the back. 

He’d much rather be behind the wheel for this trip, but there was still at least two weeks’ worth of work left to do on the Impala and this visit to Stanford couldn’t wait that long. Sam had been bitching at him nearly every day for the past month to come see him and meet his girlfriend, and Dean had finally run out of viable excuses. 

It was just a little over a day’s trip, anyway.

He collapsed in the seat next to the window with a long sigh, setting his bag between his knees. Pulling out his earbuds, he settled into his seat with Zeppelin’s _Ramble On_  and leaned his head against the Plexiglas window, closing his eyes. He felt the lurch of the bus as it began moving and he concentrated on the lyrics in his mind so he wouldn’t have to think about anything else. 

At least he wasn’t flying. 

 

* * *

 

The first bus switch he made was somewhere just inside Colorado.

Dean took a seat near the back again, his bag between his feet, Motorhead in his ears. He leaned against the window, watching the world outside pass by and not really seeing it. His phone vibrated in his pocket, ignored. Probably Sam, telling him where he wanted to meet up once Dean got into town.

Or maybe it was Sam telling him _again_ how excited his girlfriend – _Sarah Blake. She’s an Art History major. I think you’ll really like her, Dean_ – was to finally meet the “mysterious older brother.” Dean snorted, the corner of his mouth quirking in a small smile. She was definitely too good for his nerd of a little brother, but he was glad Sam had someone that made him happy.

Sam deserved to be happy.

The familiar ache in his chest made itself known and Dean turned up his music, wishing in vain that he could drown it out, make it go away. He just wanted it to go away, to forget it, to—

Movement to his left grabbed his attention and he watched, glad for the distraction, out of the corner of his eye as someone sat in the seats adjacent from his own. The guy wasn’t much older than Dean, with dark hair and five o’ clock shadow, Metallica tee, jeans, and scuffed Converse that looked like they’d seen better days. He carried a worn backpack, and Dean could just make out the white earbuds, one in his ear, the other hanging down his chest.

Like he could sense eyes on him, the guy looked up and over at Dean. His eyes were the most crystalline blue Dean had ever seen, brilliant and intense even from the space between them. They stared for a long, endless moment, before Dean was given a small, barely-there smile of acknowledgement.

The ache in his chest lessened, and Dean breathed easier than he had in a long time.

 

* * *

 

Dean had to switch buses again in Denver, and the layover in between was just long enough to grab something to eat before he had to be on the road again. He meandered along a strip of city street until he found an IHOP, the air conditioning cooling the sweat on his skin from the warm summer air. He breathed in the smell of fresh coffee and syrup, letting his shoulders relax. It felt good to stretch his legs.

It didn’t surprise him near as much as he thought it should when his blue-eyed adjacent seatmate walked up beside him, immediately telling the hostess they were two when she turned to seat them. He didn’t have the energy to be surprised. Instead, he just followed her to the table and slid into one side of the booth when the guy slid into the other.

They both ordered coffee, black, and Dean settled on waffles while the guy asked for whatever breakfast special they had going on. Their waitress was too peppy, too bright as she told them it’d all be “right out” before nearly skipping off.  

Dean’s chest ached again, and his head throbbed.

“So. Where are you headed?”

Dean looked up at the question. The low voice wasn’t what he’d expected, but it suited. Up close, his eyes were an even brighter blue, clear like the ocean. The pulse behind Dean’s eyes faded, and he breathed deeply.

“Cali,” he answered eventually. He pulled his silverware closer, pulling off the paper around it. “Going to see my brother and his girl. You?”

The guy leaned back, looking thoughtful and at peace. Dean felt his shoulders relax further in a wave of contented ease he couldn’t explain.

“Wherever the road takes me, I suppose,” was what the guy finally said, his lips quirking at the corners. “Away from family, for sure. I’ve had about all I can stand of mine for a while.”

Dean huffed a breath. “Annoying siblings or overbearing parents?”

“Yes.” His blue eyes seemed to glow with underlying mirth.

The ache lessened more, and Dean smiled genuinely. “Well, I get you there, at least.”

The waitress brought the coffee, and Dean managed to thank her sincerely.

“I’m Dean.” He brought his mug to his lips. Hot, fresh, bitter. Comforting. His nose wrinkled as he watched his new friend add creamer and two packs of sweetener to his own drink.

Blue eyes caught his own, shinning with smothered laughter, and Dean grinned behind his mug.

“Cas.”

 

* * *

 

They sat together on the way through Utah, sharing earbuds. Their bags were shoved into the seats in front of them. Cas had turned to lean his back against Dean so he could put his feet across the aisle. He was warm against Dean’s arm, a welcome weight that chased away the ache. Instead, there was the urge to lean his head against Cas’ and breathe in the smell of his shampoo.

Dean leaned his head against the window again.

 _Wherever I May Roam_ played on Cas’ iPod, and Cas’ low voice hummed along. He was off-key by the slightest bit, but Dean found it perfect.

“What’s your family like, Cas?” Dean hadn’t meant to ask, but it slipped out anyway.

The humming continued until the end of the verse before Cas answered. “Eccentric. Overbearing. Large. Slightly dysfunctional. Holiday get-togethers are always fun, though. Luce brings enough booze to down an elephant and Gabe pisses off Uncle Zachariah by bringing along a man as his date. Anna and Alfie team up with him later to go streaking down the neighborhood. Uncle Marv and Raphael plan world domination or something. We haven’t figured it out yet.

“Michael pretends to be the poster child for The Good Son and then he outdrinks me in the year’s drinking game as a big ‘fuck you’ to our missing, deadbeat dad. Mom usually joins him, drunk enough to be making out with Aunt Hannah. Hannah’s not actually related to us. Married in. Uncle Ezekiel passed away two years ago.”

And for some reason, Dean laughed, and his chest felt light, and the ache faded even more.

“That’s fucked up, Cas.”

Cas’ shoulders moved in a shrug, and there was a fondness in his voice. “Definitely, but I love them. Except Uncle Zach. He can go to hell.”

And Dean laughed even harder.

 

* * *

 

“It was a house fire that took my mom.”

They were two hours out from the state line between Nevada and California when Dean offered up the words. His voice was quiet, weighed down by emotion. The ache was back, deeper this time, and he felt empty, lost, tired. The sky had turned grey, and the smell of rain was in the air.

Cas leaned further into Dean’s side and took his hand, holding tightly.

“I was only four, Sammy just a baby. He’d just been put to sleep, Mom in bed, and I was on the couch with my dad watching tv. It was just another night.

“The last thing I remember before it all went to hell was my dad changing the channel during commercial. I finally dropped off, and then the next thing I know is screaming. My dad’s up and off the couch, running upstairs, and there’s smoke coming from Sammy’s room. I didn’t understand what was happening, all I knew was… that was Mom’s voice, and she was screaming, and something was wrong.

“Dad came back down with Sammy and handed him to me, told me to run outside and look after Sammy. That’s all I ever really knew how to do growing up: look after Sammy. Protect Sammy. Keep Sammy safe. And I did. I kept him safe. But Mom didn’t make it. Mom didn’t make it, and it was just Dad left to raise us.

“We moved a lot after that, always on the road. Dad never could settle; he wasn’t the same after Mom. We spent years floating between motel rooms and shitty rented houses. I looked after Sam more than he did; I was practically raising him myself. And it was like he didn’t care, always running out on us, like we weren’t worth the time.

“Why weren’t we good enough? I tried to be good, tried to do whatever he asked, but I wasn’t good enough. Why wasn’t I good enough?”

Cas’ thumb rubbed circles against Dean’s palm, and Dean realized the shuddering breaths he could hear, muted through the white noise in his ears, were coming from him. He gasped, sucking in a deep breath, and clung to Cas’ hand.

The ache was all-consuming now, the gaping maw of emptiness in him seeming to swallow him whole. He knew there were tears on his cheeks because he couldn’t see through them, but he couldn’t feel them. Couldn’t feel anything. It hurt.

_It hurts god why does it hurt so much I just want it to stop why won’t it stop why can’t it stop stopstopstoppleasepleaseican’tbreathewhydoesithurtithurtsithurtswhywhywhyican’tican’tstopstopsTOPSTOP—_

“Dean. Dean, breathe. Breathe with me, okay? In. Out. In. Out.”

Strong hands were on his arms, and a familiar low voice was in his ear, soothing and calm. He inhaled deeply, letting it out slowly.

“There you go, you’re okay. I want you to focus now. Five things you can see. Breathe.”

Dean listened to the voice, concentrating on it instead of the aching in his chest, the pounding in his head. Five things he could see. He could do that.

_Seat in front of me._

_Highway sign. 200 miles._

_My bag._

_Blue eyes—_

_Cas._

Dean managed to even his breathing, pulling himself out of the dark pit in his mind. Cas was there, now. Cas, with his blue eyes gazing at Dean with concern and care, soft voice gentle, hands warm and secure. Cas made the ache go away, filled the emptiness. Dean looked at him through wet eyes and shame that Cas, beautiful, wonderful Cas, had to see him like that.

But Cas just smiled and continued to rub Dean’s arms.

“I’m sorry,” Dean croaked out, ducking his head. “I’m sorry I’m so weak, so pathetic—”

“Dean.” Cas said it sharply, and hands cupped Dean’s face to bring their eyes together again. “You have nothing to apologize for. You are not pathetic. You are not weak.” His eyes softened, and Dean felt a lurch in his chest, different from the ache and the emptiness; this one was warm, soft, gentle.

“You are in pain, pain that you have suffered for years, and you are trying to heal. That is not weak.”

Feeling raw and tired, Dean gave into the urge to lean against Cas, letting his head come to rest on Cas’ chest. Cas’ arms wrapped around him, holding him as he breathed in the smell of laundry detergent and honey that clung to Cas.

“You _are_ good enough, Dean,” Cas murmured against his temple. “I’ve known you only a day, and I know that much.”

The conviction in his voice, the assurance, the utter belief—

Dean’s shoulders finally relaxed, and he let himself believe too.

 

* * *

 

Dean got off the bus to bright sunshine, tossing his bag over his shoulder. He breathed deeply, inhaling the warm air of Palo Alto, and a smile spread on his lips.

“Sam goes to Stanford, right?”

Dean turned to grin at Cas, who came to stand next to him. His blue eyes were hidden behind Aviators, and his backpack was slung over his shoulder, hands in his pockets. He smiled over at Dean.

Dean chuckled, heading down the street they were on in search of a coffeehouse or sandwich shop, pulling out his phone. “Yeah. Pre-Law. He graduates next year.”

“And Sarah?”

“Art History. Sam says her dad owns a gallery or something. I don’t pay attention when he goes into nerd-mode.”

He could practically hear Cas’ eyes rolling back in his head, and his grin widened.

“You remember I double-majored in Religious Studies and Philosophy, right?” Cas scoffed. “You seemed perfectly content to listen to me talk about that.”

“Well, yeah,” Dean said, like it was obvious. He turned and winked at Cas. “You’re interesting. I mean, it’s no Automotive Engineering, but still.”

Dean laughed at the put-upon groan that came from Cas, shaking his head as his phone vibrated. He looked to see a text from Sam, informing him that he and Sarah were just getting out of class for lunch. They wanted to meet at a little place down the street from the campus.

Pulling up Google Maps, Dean entered the location and was rewarded with the news that the place was a twenty-minute walk from where he and Cas were at that very moment. They were even headed in the right direction.

“C’mon, Cas, let’s go get you introduced to my little brother.”

Dean put his phone back in his pocket after shooting off a text to said little brother and reached out to take Cas’ offered hand. Together, they wandered lazily down the street, in no hurry and simply enjoying the summer bustle.

In the distance behind them, Dean heard the release of compressed air as the bus closed its doors on its new passengers and pulled away from the curb. Turning his head, he watched as it passed them, off on its next trip over the roads of America. Cas squeezed his hand as it disappeared on the horizon, and Dean smiled.

The ache was finally, blissfully gone. 

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: [leviathncas](http://leviathncas.tumblr.com)


End file.
